


Liar

by MikeWritesThings (orphan_account)



Series: One Shots [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 15:01:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3415106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/MikeWritesThings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Norway is a liar. </p><p>His life is full of lies.</p><p>He can't stop lying.</p><p>He deserves his punishment.</p><p>Doesn't he?</p><p>Punishment.</p><p>It's what a liar like him deserves.</p><p>Cold and darkness and hell.</p><p>But will a certain Dane be able to save him?</p><p>Maybe.</p><p>Or maybe not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Liar

**Author's Note:**

> I sucky one-shot I wrote at three AM in the morning. influenced by the Million Lies Doujinshi (I spelled that right, right?).

"I hate you, Anko."

Lies. They were lies.

Everything that came out of his mouth was a lie.

Lies.

Will he ever stop lying?

Lies.

When was the last time he told the truth?

Lies.

It stung him that he told so many.

Lies.

He didn't know the truth anymore himself, either.

Lies.

Did he really feel what he told?

Lies.

Did he really hate Denmark?

Lies.

Did he really love Iceland?

Lies.

Were England and Romania really his friends?

Lies.

All lies.

Or were they?

Lies.

Or the truth?

Both?

Neither?

But that was not the point.

The point was that Norway was running.

Running, gliding, sprinting without stop.

He ran.

Ran.

Breathless.

Face red.

Panicked.

Needing a safe haven.

Running from the lies.

Running from everything.

He was a dishonest bastard.

How could he live with himself?

Lies.

All lies.

Tears.

At the corners of his eyes.

His vision is blurred.

But he wipes them away.

He doesn't cry anymore.

Lie.

It is a lie.

It's all a lie.

His life is a lie.

He is a liar.

A liar.

One who doesn't tell the truth.

Who lies constantly.

And now he's at his house.

He can't tell the truth anymore.

The others either don't suspect his lies or don't trust him anymore because of his lies.

Either way, he's stuck here.

Alone.

No help.

But he wasn't going to ask for help.

It's been going on for years.

He didn't need help now.

He had retreated into a corner of his mind where help could no longer reach.

Lies.

He was a liar, and this was his punishment.

He was alone on his bed.

Darkness pressed from all sides.

He buried his face in his hands.

Lies.

His life

was filled

with lies.

Mist kissed his skin and chilled it.

Cold crept up his chest and gripped his heart.

His breathing became sharp.

Lies.

So many lies.

But there had to be a truth somewhere.

Goosebumps prickled across his arms.

His breathing was shallow.

Darkness was everywhere.

Even that was a lie.

There was no truth.

There never was a truth.

It was winter.

A time for hell.

For darkness.

And he was alone.

Alone as the pain pounded in his chest.

Alone as his insides twisted in and around.

Alone as darkness shrouded his body like a cloak.

He could see nothing beyond the veil pressing against his eyes.

His face.

His heart.

His arms clutched himself.

It was the only comfort he had.

Voices screamed.

Lights danced only to vanish a millisecond later.

Hands brushed down his back, over his arms, through his hair,

but every time he went to bat them away,

they seemed to disappear.

Somebody was choking him.

Stabbing him.

Burning him.

Killing him slowly,

like the liar he was,

he deserved it.

Pain.

He screamed.

Guttural.

But when he screamed he felt a hand on his shoulder.

A hand warmer than the others.

He opened his eyes.

He was standing in the middle of his room.

His back was to the door where light was flooding in.

Light.

A hand on his shoulder that was warm.

And the room was warm as well.

But he was never warm.

Always cold.

Always freezing.

Always insecure.

He was spun around on the spot and his face was pressed against somebody's chest.

He had stopped screaming by then.

His eyes were closed.

"It's okay, Nor....It's okay...I promise."

His throat constricted.

A lie.

He was not okay.

He would never be okay.

He pushed away from the taller man and ran.

He ran again.

Away from him.

Away from lies.

Away from cold.

Away from the dark.

But it would follow him.

The lies,

the cold,

the dark,

everything that made his life hell

would follow.

England and Romania were in the kitchen.

They yelped when he barreled past.

"Nor!"

No.

Go away.

He doesn't need you.

He doesn't want you.

He hates you.

...

Lies.

Will he ever stop lying?

A tear ran down his cheek.

Lies.

Lies.

All lies,

never the truth,

always a lie.

"Nor!"

"GO AWAY!"

A hand reached out onto his shoulder.

"Nor!"

"I DON'T NEED YOU!"

He shrugged the hand off.

He had told another lie.

Disgust.

It was what he felt towards himself.

"Nor...!"

"I HATE YOU!"

He was screaming.

He never screamed.

Unless he was alone.

He was soft-spoken.

He never raised his voice.

That was a lie too.

All lies.

So many lies.

And then he was on his knees.

And somebody was hugging him from behind.

And somebody was spinning him around and hugging him tightly.

"Nor.....Calm down...Your not alone anymore...I'll help you."

He looked up.

Eyes were wide.

"Why?"

The Dane was surprised.

"Because I love you."

Lies.

They were lies.

His fists gripped the Dane's coat and he cried.

Hard.

"What's the matter, Norge?"

"...I'm a...I'm a liar, Dane."

His forehead was kissed softly.

"You're a beautiful liar."

He pushed him away.

"No! Stop!"

The Dane looked shocked.

Hurt.

Dead.

"I hate you!"

He got to his feet.

The Dane followed.

His lips were pressed roughly to the taller man's.

It was a kiss.

A kiss full of lies on his end.

Lies of how he hated Denmark.

A kiss full of truth on the other.

Truth of how much the Dane loved him.

Too much.

It was imbalanced.

He was a liar.

"I HATE YOU!"

It was a scream he did not mean.

But that did not matter now.

He had told another lie.

"I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!"

And the man ran.

He ran until he was back at home.

He locked everything.

He made sure his friends were out of the house.

That was a lie.

He had no friends.

He didn't deserve friends.

He was a liar.

He locked himself in his room.

He cried.

His tears overlfowed.

The cold gripped him.

Voices screamed.

It was starting again.

But he took his punishment.

Because he was a liar.

Nobody could help him now.

There was a pounding at his door.

"Nor! Nor, open up! Don't be alone! You're killing yourself! Your making yourself insane! Nor!"

He looked down at his hands.

His fingernails were digging deep into his skin.

There were jagged bleeding marks across his forearm.

He was making himself insane?

Killing himself?

The voices screamed again.

Hands slapped his ace.

"NOR! OPEN THE DOOR! Don't hurt yourself! Please! You'll go insane! I love you! Open the door! Please! I love you Nor, don't this to yourself, Romania and England and Prussia and Sweden and Finland and Iceland and America, me, we're here! We're here right now! Open the door!"

Voices were accompanying his.

"Open the door, Nor."

He closed his eyes.

Why was England here?

He had lied about being his friend.

Hadn't he?

The way he was, everything that came out of his mouth was a lie.

Ah.

At long last.

The truth.

He was a liar.

"Open up before the awesome me breaks the door down!"

Prussia.

Why?

He didn't interact with him.

And why should he?

He was a liar.

"Dude, please open the door!"

"Big brother,open the door!"

The pounding grew harder. Louder.

Tears were down his cheeks.

He reached to brush them away.

He withdrew his hand.

They were not tears.

They were blood.

The voices laughed at him.

"NOR! OPEN-THE-DOOR!"

With each word the door was hit so hard it caused Norway to jolt forward.

He stood up and looked at the door.

Darkness was beginning to obscure his vision.

He laid his head against the door and said softly,

"Dane?"

Despite their yelling, they were still able to hear him.

They stopped shouting.

"Yes?"

The other's voice was soft, caring.

It killed him.

How could he care about a liar?

Lies.

That was all that came out of his mouth.

"You say I am killing myself?"

"You are, Nor. Let us in. Don't be alone."

He didn't respond to the question. Instead he asked,

"You say I am making myself insane?"

"Yes. Nor, please, I'm begging you. I love you. Open the door. Don't make yourself insane."

He stared at the door.

He opened his mouth.

He was going to tell the truth

at last.

At last.

At last, he was telling the truth.

That fact alone brought a smile to his lips.

But it vanished quickly.

Even if he told this one truth,

he was still a liar.

He lifted his head as his voice delivered the truth.

"Too late."

And the darkness was back.

Voices, imaginary and real, mingled together and screamed at him.

He closed his eyes but it made no difference anyways to the darkness.

He was accepting his punishment.

He was,

is,

and always will be

a liar.


End file.
